


You Were Easy on the Eyes, I've Never Really Tried

by louisniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom Louis, Dom/sub, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rimming, Sub Harry, Yeah this is really weird I apologise, golden showers, peeing, pissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisniall/pseuds/louisniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Harry's never asked for something stranger than this in his entire adult life. </i>
  <br/>
  <i>He thought it was weird when he and Louis had sex for the first time and he asked Louis to spank him.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He thought it was weird when he asked Louis to be his Dom, and that it was just as weird when Louis gave an almighty bloody fucking hell yes.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He thought it was weird when he asked Louis if he could call him daddy.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He thought it was weird when he asked Louis to—</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He just thinks everything he asks Louis to do is incredibly strange. But Louis, thankfully, just goes with it. Harry might even go as far as to say Louis enjoys the things Harry asks of him.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>But he has no faith in his next request. He can feel it in his bones that Louis will be disgusted with him. </i>
</p><p>Harry just wants to get peed on, as weird as that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Easy on the Eyes, I've Never Really Tried

**Author's Note:**

> wow it's been a while ! hi friends!
> 
> yes i know this is a sad excuse for a fic it's only 2k words and its a freaking golden shower fic but that stuff's been intriguing my lately 
> 
> this is so badly written and so short and the smut is literally about .26969696969696996969420 seconds long
> 
> annnnyywaaaays title is from "easy on the eyes" by the vigilance committee (who you should check out b/c they're SUPER sick)

Harry's never asked for something stranger than this in his entire adult life.

He thought it was weird when he and Louis had sex for the first time and he asked Louis to spank him.

He thought it was weird when he asked Louis to be his Dom, and that it was just as weird when Louis gave an almighty _bloody fucking hell yes_.

He thought it was weird when he asked Louis if he could call him daddy.

He thought it was weird when he asked Louis to—

He just thinks everything he asks Louis to do is incredibly strange. But Louis, thankfully, just goes with it. Harry might even go as far as to say Louis _enjoys_ the things Harry asks of him.

But he has no faith in his next request. He can feel it in his bones that Louis will be disgusted with him.

 

****

 

Louis knows something is up as soon as he walks into Harry's apartment across town. Not only does it smell like heaven, but the lights are dimmed and he's pretty sure he stepped in a mess of rose petals on his way in.

"Harry?" he calls.

"Kitchen!" Harry responds.

Louis moseys his way through the apartment, sliding into the kitchen. Smells from all directions hit him—fresh bread, cheeses of all sorts, chicken and vegetables. "What's all this?"

Harry turns around, smiling. "Nothing. Just thought I'd surprise you."

"For what reason?" Louis asks. He checks his mental calendar to make sure it isn't some sort of anniversary or something. When he determines it isn't, he focuses back in to Harry walking past him, smiling devilishly and setting a chicken down on the table.

"Just for fun," Harry says. He throws off his apron and—maybe Louis should've expected it—finds that Harry isn't wearing a shirt, just tight black briefs and one of Louis' ties, the one with little umbrellas with their own personal rain clouds. Harry smiles again as he sits himself down at one head of the table, motioning for Louis to do the same at the other end.

He does, sits himself down, fully clothed, in front of a fucking banquet, and waits for Harry to drop a bomb.

He doesn't. Harry instead serves Louis some of everything and then some for himself, and begins munching happily on his creations.

Louis decides it rude to wait with his eyebrows raised and his fists clenched on the table, so he stops the façade and shovels food into his mouth. (Truth be told, he almost groans at the taste. Harry's a damn good chef, whether this is a trap or not.)

"So," Harry says when Louis goes for seconds, "I've been thinking."

"Mmm?" Louis responds, mouth stuffed full of chicken.

Harry snorts from his seat. "About something new to try."

Louis stops stabbing at the chicken carcass long enough to see Harry's flushed cheeks and doe eyes before he ducks his head in embarrassment. A flood of emotions hit him, that his boy feels embarrassed to ask him for something new when Harry asks almost every day for Louis to stick his tongue up his arse. "What is it?"

Harry looks up, cheeks still tomato red and eyes glossy. "Um, it's—it's uh, it's really strange, Lou. Like if you—if you don't want to, I totally underst—"

"Harry," he interrupts, "I don't even know what it is yet."

Harry pushes out a breath and slumps back in his chair, thumbing at the bottom of the tie around his neck. "I mean, it's—I can't _say_ it," he says, sounding defeated.

Louis frowns. He doesn't like it when Harry's like this, doesn't like when Harry feels like he can't tell Louis something, because god knows Harry can tell anything, absolutely anything. "Do you want me to name things and see if it comes up?"

Harry at first looks intrigued, like he's going to nod excitedly like a baby, but then he goes back to his glum expression and shakes his head. "No, I'll just—I'll just tell you." Harry clears his throat and adjusts a loose curl hanging down in his face. "It's—It's, um, I want—I want to be like, pissedd on?" He ends it in a question, like he himself isn't too sure of what he's asking.

Louis feels taken aback inside, kind of wants to widen his eyes in a comical sort of way, but he knows right now Harry needs him to be daddy-Louis, not idiotic-class-clown-Louis. Instead he keeps his expression set neutral, and nods. "Pissed on." It isn't a question, he just needed to hear it again.

He looks back at Harry from where his eyes were wandering in thought and— _god_ , Harry looks wrecked. He's sweating, biting his lips to a cherry red, his breath coming in short bursts as he either gets really nervous or really turned on. (He supposes it's the former.)

"H? You alright?"

"I'm sorry!" he shouts. It's sudden, has Louis wanting to push his chair back a little at the intensity of his words. "I'm sorry," he says again, more quietly this time.

Louis pushes his chair out and stands, walking around the table to wrap his arms around Harry's bare back and press his chest to Harry's spine. "Hey, c'mon, babe. No need to be sorr—"

"I freaked you out," Harry says miserably. "I—It's gross, I know. Just nevermin—"

"I never said it was gross, H," he says, rubbing his hands over Harry's shoulders soothingly, "it just—just took me by surprise, is all."

"You don't think it's gross?"

"I mean, I'm willing to try it, if it makes you happy."

Harry's lips turn up into a smile. "Really?"

Louis considers his options. He could say yes and make his boy happy, have a mess to clean up, and possibly find another kink he has. He could say no, disappoint the fuck out of Harry, and deny Harry something for the first time out of a sexual context. "Yeah, really."

 

****

 

They don't try it for weeks.

It's May 9th the first time Harry brings it up, and it's their first day of tour in June when Harry finally asks for it in the middle of a scene in their hotel room.

" _Daddy_ ," Harry groans, bucking his hips upward for the friction that isn't there.

Harry's currently handcuffed to the headboard, legs spread open as wide as they can go, Louis in between them teasing him with his tongue. " _More_."

"Harry," he says, pulling back exasperatedly, "must you whine the _whole_ time?"

Harry immediately stops, settling back into the pillows and letting Louis take his time.

If Louis could eat Harry out every day of his life, god, he would. Harry's taste is just a part—it's clean, musky, sweet, and just _Harry_. He's always soft and smooth, cleanly shaven and willing—his hole gives at the slightest press of Louis' tongue, fingers, cock.

Louis finally wraps his hand around Harry's cock, stroking it slowly upwards, running his thumb over the slit, and back down equally slowly, reveling in the way Harry's hole twitches and clenches around his tongue.

Harry makes a strangled sort of sound and mumbles, "have to, Daddy."

Louis detaches (half-heartedly) from Harry's arse long enough to string a sentence together. "You're not coming yet, H."

Harry shakes his head wildly, back and forth with no sense, as it usually is when he goes under when they play. "No," he says. He pauses, seems to try to collect his words. "Gotta _go_."

Louis stops the movements of his hand on Harry's cock and looks down at it. "You have to pee, Harry?"

Harry whimpers as an answer and Louis raises his eyebrows. "So go," he says.

"Gotta... gotta unchain," Harry says.

"No," Louis says. "Just go right here."

Harry whimpers again, loud and wanting and—

Yeah, he just starts fucking pissing on himself, first a slow stream, but then it raises in the air, coming down onto Harry's chest and splashing up onto his lips. Some dribbles down onto Louis' hand where he's still holding Harry's cock steadily as he... _pees_.

Louis should be totally grossed out, and he is, kind of just wants to call it a night but—but Harry lets out this groan, this deep, lovely groan when he's finished, and just _comes_ on himself, without Louis moving his hand or anything.

Harry immediately shoots his eyes open and babbles an apology. "Daddy 'm so sorry Daddy please I didn't mean to Daddy sorry sor—"

"Don't be sorry," Louis says, dropping Harry's cock and moving both of his hands to Harry's cheeks. "My amazing boy. Nothing to be sorry about."

Harry's chest is heaving, his lips red and his arms flexing where they're chained above his head. It's a beautiful sight, Harry chained up like this; Louis wishes it would never end.

Louis goes to get off the bed for a flannel, but is stopped by the painful bobbing of his cock, which wasn't hard when they began. And then he's totally aware of the arousal he feels when he realises _his bladder is full_.

"Harry?" he asks, turning back. Harry's still recovering, still under far enough that he can't do much. "Harry love? Are you finished? Should we stop?"

Harry whines in response and bucks his hips up, his soft cock swaying to the side and dragging through the wetness on his belly. " _More_ ," he pleads.

 _God_ , this all feels so wrong. Wrong that he's about to piss on in his boyfriend, in a hotel... for pleasure. He feels like he's almost... _degrading_ Harry, like he's making him feel less human—but then he remembers Harry _coming_ after he pissed on himself, and he knees up on the bed to sit on Harry's hips.

"My good boy," Louis says, stroking himself slowly as Harry's eyes widen. "Such a good boy for me, take it all so well."

" _Daddy_ ," he whines. Louis smiles a little, at how easily Harry goes for Louis, at how easy Louis goes for Harry. They're so _gone_ for each other.

"Ready, love?" Louis asks. Harry nods but—that isn't good enough. Sometimes when Harry goes under he just agrees to everything Louis says. He needs Harry to tell him. "Words, love.

"Yeah, Daddy," he answers, his voice heavy with arousal.

At first Louis physically cannot go. It's like there's a million people about to watch him pee. (And maybe there is, who knows at this point. A line was almost crossed when a fan got a picture of him and Harry in quite an interesting embrace. They passed it off as role-playing as Liam and Sophia. No one bought it. Management was furious.)

After a few moments of willing himself to let go, Harry whines, bucks his hips and lets out a sob. " _Please_ , Daddy."

That's what gets Louis to let go, for the stream to start out as a trickle and gradually widen, until he can't _stop_ , until Harry is wining and panting, until its leaking off of Harry's sides, until his piss stops and becomes sticky white and lands ropes all over Harry's chest after a minute or two.

Faint in his post-orgasmic state, Louis clambers off of Harry and grabs two flannels from the bathroom, wetting one and not the other, and saunters back to Harry.

Harry's a sight—his arms are still chained, red and veiny and tired-looking; his chest is glistening with sweat, piss, and cum; his cock is hard again, to Louis' surprise; his lips are bitten red and little whimpers are escaping them periodically every time his cock twitches on his belly.

Louis fishes they key out of his duffel and unlocks Harry, squirting some cream from the bottle on the nightstand onto his fingers and rubbing into his wrists slowly, allowing the blood back in. Harry moans happily, his eyes fluttering under his eyelids.

He next wipes the dry cloth over his neck, chest, thighs and hole—which flutters under the roughness of the cloth—making sure he gets every wet spot on him. Then he takes the wet cloth and wipes it slowly over him, taking care of making him clean, all the while watching his facial expressions to make sure he's coming back, albeit slowly.

After he's finished he dresses himself in a clean, dry pair of boxers, calls for a new set of sheets from the cleaning service, and walks over to Harry, stroking his ankle. "Harry, love?" he asks quietly. "You with me?"

Harry's eyes flutter open slowly, his pupils at first dilating at the sight of Louis—his Louis—standing over him with a smile. Louis watches him contemplate the question, watches his lips twitch in an attempt to formulate words.

"Best," he finally says. "Best I—love you, Daddy."

Louis smiles, running his thumb over the arch in his foot. "I love you too, H. You good? Can I move you to the couch and put some pants on you so I can change the sheets?"

Harry sniffles and nods, holding out his arms for Louis to haul him up. Harry clings to him like a baby, his arms wrapped around his neck and his legs around his waist, and whimpers at the loss of Louis' warmth when he dumps him on the couch.

Louis quickly runs back and grabs a pair of boxers, runs back and slips them onto his boyfriends’ hips, and runs to answer the door and grab the clean sheets from the maid.

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos is appreciated if you liked this! if you don't like the way ive said something, please dont leave a mean comment. it doesn't make me feel too good
> 
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